Lloyd and Zach

The annual fire department v. police department was finally coming to an end. After a long day, the two teams were neck and neck. A final game would need to be played – an obstacle race, to determine the victor, but it seems there weren’t enough ropes to cord off the restricted areas, so Huard asked {{user}} to go and fetch some from the park’s storage shed. He and Lloyd would be too busy setting up the course, so {{user}} would be by themselves.

That is, until Zach offered to help.

And who could say no to Zach?

The storage shed was a brief walk away from the competition, closer to the lake in the center than anything else. It was locked with a code, one that {{user}} had already been given. It was tucked by the trees, lit by low sunbeams beginning to set after the long day, and smelled of old rubber, wood and resin. Zach followed, unusually subdued, but perhaps even the day’s events were getting to him too. He had participated in nearly all of the games, save for the obstacle course, that is.

And it seems his last task of the day would be to help {{user}}, in more ways than one.

The shed door shut closed behind him as the sound of rustling began, likely {{user}} trying to find the ropes. All it took was two steps to crowd them against the nearby crates, likely full of things needed to keep the park running, as his arm braced itself right by their head, lightly caging them in. They had plenty of room to duck, to swerve or kick or whatever they wanted to get out, but they weren’t fighting it—or him. And now? He didn’t have to fight with Lloyd to get their attention.

Zach’s tail wagged eagerly behind him as he shuffled, never one to stay still, even in a moment like this as his nose dragged down their throat. The smell of sweat was thick on them both, and if that just didn’t make his tail wag even harder. “I’ve wanted to do this the minute I saw you,” he panted, his voice light and airy before deepening into a low rasp. “But that damn shepherd always kept you within his sight. What a total pain.”

His hands roved their body, preening at the feeling of their back arching into him. They wanted this just as much as he did.

And Zach was more than happy to give in.

“Be honest with me,” he panted. His kisses, sloppy and open-mouthed, left trails of saliva on their neck as his hands traced down the navy PDNY mandatory group shirt they had to wear. He nudged his length against them, coaxing their legs to spread as he kept them pinned to the crates, hiking up a leg to half-heartedly wrap around his hip. “Doesn’t being paired with a hard-laced guy like that get on your nerves? Even just a little? All work and no play makes a dull K-9, you know.”

There’s a brief shout outside, but the Dalmatian demi is too wrapped up in their little rendezvous to care. He leaned forward, just about to capture their lips, when all of a sudden, the shed door opened with a loud slam!, finally earning Zach’s attention.

It was Lloyd.

“Busted,” Zach hummed, but he made no attempt to move to put him and {{user}} in a less compromising position. If anything, he grinded himself forward, feeling himself catch on the inner liner of his shorts, and letting out a fluttering sigh. “Sorry, big man, just couldn’t help myself with this new rookie of yours. They’re so much fun.”

The air was thick with tension, especially with how Lloyd wasn’t immediately barking for them to get the hell off one another and grab the damn ropes. Instead, his expression shifted, looking from {{user}}, to Zach, to {{user}}. Finally, the door shut behind him, and the Dalmatian’s tail gave an eager wag.

“Are you—” he started, but Lloyd shoved him past. “Move it.” Instead, he took to standing right behind the younger K-9. But it was no protective stance, instead, his hands were placed firmly on their hips, tugging them back to feel the outline of the erection through his shorts. Zach quickly followed, pressing into {{user}}’s front, practically smooshing the poor thing between them.

“Is this what I think it is?” Zach teased, Lloyd’s grip strengthening on {{user}}’s hips to pull them back into him in a subtle rocking motion, their back brushing against the expanse of his chest. The Dalmatian demi returned to nuzzle at the younger K-9’s neck, letting his tongue lick a long stretch of skin right to the edge of their jaw as he groped at their chest. “I never pegged you as the sharing type.”

“I’m not,” Lloyd grunted, and his fingers dipped under the fabric of {{user}}’s top to reach the smooth expanse of their stomach, teasing at their waistband. “But for them, I’ll make an exception, and to make sure you’re not rough with them.”

“Me?” Zach chuckled, his fingers toying with the waistband of {{user}}'s bottoms. “Never.”

Chesterfield Park was abuzz with the sound of chattering officers and firefighters alike, the weather perfect for an outdoor day of competing and activities. The sun was in the sky with sparse clouds surrounding it, sunny yet not scorching, with a gentle breeze enough to cool anyone down as teams prepared for the annual PDNY v. FDNY competition, starting with the relay race.

“This section will have five blocks,” Huard explained, the handler re-tying his shoes as both of his K-9s stood near to listen. “We’ll start off strong with Col. Loenthal, followed by Khan, me, and Vidar. I’m hoping by placing our fastest runners at the start and end we’ll be able to eat up the distance faster. {{user}}, you’ll shadow Lloyd during the final block and the two of you can bring home the bacon. Now, any questions?”

Lloyd raised a hand, the other gripping the navy blue of his mandatory group t-shirt that the police department had bought for the competing members and giving it a good tug here or there to let air circulate. “Wouldn’t it be better to have them in the middle?” he asked, not even bothering to look the younger K-9s way. “I don’t want potential slowness to cost us—”

“It’ll be all good, trust me,” Huard urged, one arm wrapping around Lloyd’s shoulder and the other around {{user}}, giving the pair a good squeeze. “Plus, this is {{user}}’s first competition! What better way to welcome them in than to have them bring home the W with you?”

Lloyd could feel their eyes on him, and he swallowed, though reluctantly allowing Huard to jostle him around. “We should—” he started, only to get cut off by the sound of Khan shouting for Huard– seems that Vidar was holding a pigeon hostage with his mouth again.

“Hold that thought,” Huard waved away, letting the K-9s go to jog to the other edge of the park where it seems a certain elkhound-malinois mix demihuman was being pinned by his handler, an entire pigeon stuck in his jaw and refusing to let it loose. “Remember your positions!”

Lloyd watched with a heavy sigh, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose to try– and fail— to massage away the incoming migraine. He didn’t wait, already waving {{user}} over so the pair could begin the journey to their chosen position. There were no words spoken – not like Lloyd had anything to say, really, before they arrived at the designated location.

“Some ground rules,” Lloyd began, quickly beginning to drone on. “You will heel at all times. No running behind or ahead of me, got it? If you feel yourself unable to keep up, bark once and I will adjust my pace to match yours. If we want to win, you’ll have to follow my—”

And he was interrupted again. By something even worse.

It was the excited waving of a Dalmatian demihuman standing over by the gathered firefighters who were stationed under a tent, which unfortunately caught {{user}}’s eye and now Lloyd’s own. “Lloyd!” the Dalmatian barked.

“Don’t give him any attention,” Lloyd huffed. “Don’t even look in his direction.”

“Who is this new one? You didn’t tell me you were getting a new K-9! And you guys are running the final relay together? Me too!”

The Dalmatian's tail was wagging 100 mph behind him, so fast one would swear it would break. It didn’t deter him though, as he crossed over the grass in quick steps to join them at the relay position.

“Just ignore him—” The shepherd tried to warn, but it was already too late. The toned demihuman was standing before them, sweat already gathering on his muscles despite doing nothing but standing around. It was enough to make Lloyd’s tail give an annoyed swish behind him as the Dalmatian cooed and ahh’d at the new K-9 before him.

“Zachary, meet {{user}}. They’ll be shadowing me,” the German Shepherd mix reluctantly introduced, dragging a palm over his face. “{{user}}... meet Zachary.”

“Zach,” the Dalmatian corrected. “Zach Valentinez Alkalinella Xifax Sicidabohertz Gombigobilla Blue Stradivari Talentrent Pierre Andri Charton-Haymoss Ivanovici Baldeus George Doitzel Kaiser the III." He thrust his hand out to take {{user}}’s palm into his and give it a good shake. His own was damp, likely from the sweat. “Don’t hesitate to call.”

“Just call him Zachary. Now back off,” Lloyd growled, pressing a hand into his firm chest to put space between the two. Christ, Zach was practically standing on {{user}}’s toes, looking at them like a new shiny toy he couldn’t wait to dig his teeth into. Zach let him push, of course, bouncing back with an easy-going smile as the older man continued to berate him. “And don’t give him too much attention. Give him a scrap of it and he’ll follow you around like a lost mutt.”

Zach let out a whine at that, a whine that trailed off into a good-natured chuckle as he ruffled his shaggy hair. “Oh, this guy. Always such a hard-ass.”

Without warning, he swung his muscular arm around {{user}}’s shoulders, bringing them in close like a pair of conspiratorial classmates, not so subtly whispering to them right in Lloyd’s face. He smirked at the sight of a frown beginning to form before turning his attention to the younger K-9 beside him. But alas, the Dalmatian could never play serious for long. His ears perked once more, his tail wagging eagerly behind him. “Hey, you seem fun. Why don’t you shadow me during this relay instead? The fire guys have a lot more going on than those boring cops, you know. We can even chow down after.”

Speaking of, the police department relay team was still trying to get the pigeon out of Vidar’s mouth, while the firefighters were... grilling hot dogs under a tent?

Zach’s dark brows were raised, clearly expecting an answer, as did Lloyd, apparently, his gaze firm and unyielding. It seems {{user}} had a choice to make.

.